THE PROWESS OF KAPITAN VON PREUGFELD
"THE fog is thicker than ever," grumbled the ober-leutnant as he
emerged from below. "It is so far fortunate for your landing, von
Preussen, but give me a clear night. Then there is far less risk of
being run down by those accursed P-boats."
"You need to be doubly careful on a night like this," rejoined the
spy.
"And one way is to lose no time in getting into the dinghy," added
von Preugfeld pointedly.
Rubbing alongside the bulging hull of the U-boat was a small
collapsible dinghy manned by a couple of hands clad in oilskins. In
the stern-sheets, muffled by a piece of tarpaulin, was a lighted
compass.
"I am sending my unter-leutnant in charge of the boat," observed von
Preugfeld.
"Then I hope Herr von Loringhoven realises the sense of his
responsibility," laughed the spy, as he stepped into the boat. _"Auf
Wiedersehen!"_
The dinghy pushed off under muffled oars and well-greased rowlocks.
In less than half a minute it was inaudible and invisible, swallowed
up in the fog.
The kapitan of U 247 remained on deck, half-buried in his greatcoat.
He was both irritable and impatient--impatient for the return of the
boat, irritable since he wanted to smoke and durst not. Another
U-boat commander had smoked on deck while his boat was recharging
batteries at night. The fumes of the cigar, drifting far and wide,
assailed the keen nostrils of a submarine hunter. As it was, the
U-boat got away, but her kapitan learnt a lesson and did not hesitate
to inform his fellow-pirates of his very narrow escape.
Always within easy distance of the open conning-tower hatchway and
ready to submerge at an instant's notice, Ober-leutnant von Preugfeld
maintained his solitary vigil, for the rest of the crew had been
ordered to their diving stations. It was the life of a hunted animal,
haunted by an ever-present fear. Von Preugfeld, prematurely aged and
careworn, had suffered the torments of the damned since the order had
been issued for unrestricted submarine warfare, At first he had
entered into the business with grim zest. A firm believer in the
policy of ruthlessness as applied to war, the ober-leutnant had no
compunction in sinking unarmed merchantmen and hospital ships, but
when the British Mercantile Marine took unto itself guns and
gun-layers who could shoot uncommonly straight, and when the Royal
Navy adopted certain sinister devices to cope with the pirate Hun,
von Preugfeld did not feel at all happy.
By this time he was convinced that he was on the losing side. Almost
every officer in the German Submarine Service had the same opinion,
although individually they were loth to admit it. The men, too, knew
that the U-boat campaign was a failure, but, unlike their officers,
they discussed the matter amongst themselves and thought that it was
quite about time they had a say in the business.
For a full forty minutes von Preugfeld paced the limited expanse of
steel platform that comprised the U-boat's deck, until a faint
whistle like the call of a curlew was borne to his ears.
Ordering a couple of hands on deck, the ober-leutnant gave the
pre-arranged reply. For another five minutes the interchange of
signals continued as the dinghy, baffled by the fog, endeavoured to
find her way back to her parent ship.
Presently the black outlines of the little boat loomed through the
moonlit mist. The bowman threw the painter, and von Loringhoven
clambered on board.
"This confounded fog!" he exclaimed. "I have not seen a worse one
even off the Friesland shore."
"And von Preussen?" asked the kapitan laconically.
"We landed him safely, Herr Kapitan," replied the unter-leutnant.
"There was no one about. The actual business of setting him ashore
was simple. We are to look out for him at the same place at midnight
on the first of next month, I believe?"
"That is so," assented von Preugfeld. "That is, if we are still
alive," he added, speaking to himself.
"If what, Kerr Kapitan?" asked his subordinate anxiously.
"Nothing," rejoined the other gruffly. "Now, to your post, von
Loringhoven. We have a tricky piece of navigation in front of us if
we are to arrive off Aberspey by midnight."
Thanks to his intimate knowledge of the coasts of Great Britain, von
Preugfeld was able to take the intricate inner passage round St.
Rollox Head. He did not expect to find any patrols in that waterway
on a foggy night, and his anticipations were well founded. Running
awash and at full speed, U 247 literally scraped past the outlying
rocks, the thresh of her propellers being deadened by the constant
roar of the surf upon the far-flung ledges that thrust themselves
seaward from the bold headland. Through a winding channel barely a
hundred yards in width, beset with dangers on either hand and swept
by furious currents and counter-eddies, the U-boat held steadily
onwards, until with a grunt of relief von Preugfeld "handed over" to
his subordinate.
"We're through," he observed. "Now keep her south by west at nine
knots. Call me in twenty minutes."
At the expiration of the given time the kapitan went on deck and
ordered the leadsman to sound. Very slowly the U-boat held on, until
through a rift in the fog the look-out sighted a green buoy on the
starboard hand.
"That is what I was looking for," remarked von Preugfeld to the
unter-leutnant. "It's a wreck-buoy placed there as a monument to our
achievement last March. You remember?"
"The _Camperdown Castle_, Herr Kapitan?"
"No, you fool," snapped the kapitan. "We sank the _Camperdown Castle_
eighty kilometres away to the south-eastward."
"The _Columbine_, then?"
"That's better," exclaimed von Preugfeld. "That red cross on her port
bow made an excellent mark, illuminated by electric light as it was
for our convenience. Now, shut off the motors. Call away the guns'
crews. Elevate to eight thousand metres, and fire anywhere between
west by north and west by south, and I'll warrant we'll make a mess
of things ashore in Aberspey."
The two six-inch guns mounted on U 247 were quickly manned. The
glistening, well-oiled breech-blocks were flung open, and the metal
cylinders with their deadly steel shells were thrust home. For a
brief instant the gun-layers lingered over their sights, training the
weapons upon an invisible target roughly five miles off.
"Open fire!" ordered von Preugfeld in a strained, harsh voice.
Both guns barked almost simultaneously, stabbing the foggy night with
long tongues of dark red flame. Even as the U-boat heeled under the
recoil the shrill whine of the projectile could be distinctly heard,
followed by the distant crashes of the exploding shells.
"Hit something," observed von Loringhoven. "Let us hope that the
objective was worth hitting."
"Carry on!" shouted the kapitan. "Twelve rounds each gun, and be
sharp about it."
The required number of rounds did not take long. The German gunners
were working in feverish haste, fearful lest the tip-and-run
bombardment would bring swift retribution in its wake in the shape of
a flotilla of destroyers.
Directly the last shell case had been ejected and passed below--for
brass was worth almost its weight in silver to the German military
and naval authorities--the guns were secured and the crews returned
to diving stations.
Pausing only to listen intently for sounds of approaching vessels,
von Preugfeld disappeared through the conning-tower hatchway. The
metal fastening clanged into its appointed place, the ballast tanks
were flooded and U 247 submerged to thirty metres.
For the next hour she proceeded warily, until her kapitan deemed it
safe to rise to the surface. The engines were stopped, and as soon as
the U-boat floated just awash the officers went on deck to listen.
"Petrol engine!" exclaimed von Loringhoven, as the noisy exhaust
beats of an internal combustion engine were plainly audible although
at a considerable distance.
"Down with her then!" ordered von Preugfeld.
As he moved towards the hatchway, the chief motor engineer
approached.
"We have a bad case of short circuiting, Herr Kapitan," he began.
"Both on magneto and accumulator the motors refuse to fire. I
have----"
"_Donnerwetter!_" exclaimed von Preugfeld angrily. "What monkey
tricks have you been playing? And there are hostile motor craft
around. Von Loringhoven, what depth have we?"
"Too great to rest on the bed of the sea, Herr Kapitan," replied the
unter-leutnant.
Without motive power the submarine was helpless for under-water work.
She could fill her ballast tanks, but it would be impossible to sink
only to a required depth. She would sink rapidly until the tremendous
external pressure of water would crush her thick steel hull like an
egg-shell.
"How long will it take you to make good defects?" demanded von
Preugfeld of the thoroughly scared mechanic. "Half an hour--twenty
minutes?"
"I will try, Herr Kapitan. Perhaps in half an hour----"
"Then get on with the task," almost shouted the excitable
ober-leutnant. "First couple up the surface-cruising engines. Von
Loringhoven, turn out the guns' crews. If that motor vessel comes in
sight we must try and settle her before she uses her depth-charges,
or it will be all up with us. Ten thousand curses on von Preussen for
having got us into this mess!"
Although scared himself, von Loringhoven could not help smiling at
his superior's words. He realised that the spy had little or nothing
to do with U 247's present predicament. It was just possible that the
concussion caused by the bombardment of Aberspey might have set up a
short circuit, but von Preugfeld would never admit that.
At frequent intervals the U-boat's engines were stopped. The noise of
the unseen motor vessel's exhaust alternately grew louder and
fainter. Somewhere in that baffling mist was the danger. Engaged in
a mutual game of maritime blind man's bluff the submarine and the
submarine-hunter were groping for each other. At any moment a rift in
the veil of fog might bring the adversaries almost broadside to
broadside.
Von Preugfeld glanced at the luminous dial of his watch.
"Fifteen minutes more," he muttered. "Will it be in time?"